Let it Go
by Magdalync
Summary: A Babe story told from Ranger's point of view. Stephanie told Ranger to change his destination. Where does that leave them? What's really going on in Ranger's mind?
1. Prologue

Let it Go

**Warnings:** Rated M

**Spoilers**: Takes place after Fearless Fourteen.

**A/N: **Forgive me for attempting an angsty piece. You can thank dee768nj and Alfonsia.d for inspiring my temporary melancholia. You guys can really get a grip on a girl's heart. This is planned as a short series, but I still intend to return to my usual slapstick in No Price. This story is not a song fic per se, but after reading some angst, then listening to my MP3 playlist, a song I never would have thought would fit Ranger and Stephanie, suddenly fit. If you don't like the story, don't blame it on Dee or Alf. Blame it on Cowboy Mouth. I take no responsibility!

**Let it Go**

**Prologue**

Jenny Says, by Cowboy Mouth

I've got no reason for the things I fear

The things that plague me when I see and hear

A dime's a nickel and a nickel's none

I throw myself into the Sunday sun

_**That summer Sunday when you went insane**_

_**You said you're going, but instead I came**_

_I'm throwing oranges in an applecart_

_**The ties that bind are tearing me apart**_

Jenny says turn off the radio

Jenny says turn off the lights

Jenny says turn off the video

_You beat yourself up to bring yourself down_

Let it go, let it go, let it go

Let it go, let it go, let it go

_When the world keeps coming down on me_

_I let it go_

_I've got no reason for the things I say_

_**She turned toward me then she turned away**_

_There's lot's of voices in a modern world_

_They take their toll upon a modern girl_

I've got no reason for the things I fear

The things that plague me when I see and hear

_I press my finger on an itchy trigger_

_**What once was small is now so much bigger**_

I've got no reason for the things I do

_The dealer deals and now __**the deal is screwed**_

_You throw your cards up on the playing table_

_My name is Cain and I am now unable_

I've got no reason for the things I fear

The things that plague me when I see and hear

A dime's a nickel, a nickel's none

I throw myself into the Sunday sun

Jenny says turn off the radio

Jenny says turn off the lights

Jenny says turn off the video

You beat yourself up to bring yourself down

Let it go, let it go, let it go

Let it go, let it go, let it go

When the world keeps coming down on me

_I let it go_

**Ranger's POV**

It's been six months since I've spoken to her. I left the country on a government mission just after the Brenda assignment. The government mission was strictly voluntary and had it been offered a year I go, I likely would have turned it down. As things stood, I no longer saw a reason to decline. My business runs smoothly in my absence at the hands of Tank. My family is resigned to my lifestyle, and while it didn't make them happy, they supported my decisions. Stephanie…Stephanie seems to have made her choice.

Something changed in Stephanie in the months preceding the Brenda assignment. I couldn't put my finger on what it was but it was clear the change affected our relationship. Or whatever the fuck it was. She pulled away.

Word on the street is she's living with Morelli.

Is she truly happy? I guess on the surface she might be, if happiness is defined as living up to 'Burg expectations and taking the easier, more traveled path. I understand she still works for Vinnie, but she has been taking only the easy skips and is consistently calling in for back up when necessary so I'm assuming Morelli is pleased. Not my concern.

Do I still love her? Absolutely. Unequivocally. There is no explanation, no logic as to the how and the why my soul has somehow become absorbed by her. It will never belong to another. It never belonged to me. I didn't even believe I had a soul until I realized I'd lost it to her.

In a phone conversation we'd had six months ago, I'd jokingly mentioned that I didn't know why I still put up with her. She said "It's because you like me." She used to reply, "It's because you love me."

Then I mentioned that the things I was doing weren't getting me where I wanted to go. She said, "_Then maybe you need to change your destination_."

I am inwardly damning myself for always wanting to appear as though I am an island, as though I don't need anyone, as though I don't need her. A braver man would have asked her what she meant by her statement.

Was she telling me to let her go? To find someone else with the soul I no longer have?

Or did she truly believe my ultimate destination was simply getting her into my bed? I won't deny that I ache and have ached to hold her body every night, to bury my face in her curls, to kiss and suck on the delicate skin behind her ear, to bury myself so deeply in her that _she'll ache_ from phantom pains of loss in the hours I'm not inside her. But I want more.

I want to be her everything. I want to be her lover, her best friend. While I see no need and have no desire to be married in the eyes of "burg" or even God, I want her to belong _with me and to me_. I want to belong _to her_. For the first time in my life I want to share myself, both my joys and my burdens. I want to claim a piece of happiness and the promise of a future. And for the first time in my life, I feel an inexplicable longing to see her belly swell with my child. I feel the violent urge to vomit thinking about her creating a life with anybody but me. She is my life.

But we are at an impasse. She has pulled away. In the past, I would have seen this as a signal to apply more pressure. To ramp of the game, if you will. But this is no game.

The definition of insanity is to continue to do the same things and expect different results. This was never about my destination, and if I told her that, she would choose not to believe me because then it would make her life too difficult and she would have to make herself vulnerable. She would have to think. She would have to take a chance. She would have to make a choice.

Stephanie would like the world to believe that she hates having decisions made for her and wants to be able to make her own choices. The truth is she only wants a hand in the decision making when the choices are not difficult and not life altering. The truth is, when the choices she is presented with are too complex, or the results could cause anyone in her life- including herself- pain, she buries her head in the sand and lets things just happen to her or she'll simply coast along, taking the easy road where the lanes are clearly marked and the mile markers are visible.

I know she isn't perfect. Nobody is. She doesn't take good care of herself. She's too trusting and naïve. She repeatedly puts herself in situations she is ill prepared for. She is insecure. I blame her mother and later Morelli for that. I know if she were mine, I would eventually be able to convince her that she is beautiful, far too beautiful for the likes of me. That she is smart. That her instincts are always dead on and often better then mine. I could convince her that she is my life. That she is the other half of me.

But it is her insecurity in relationships that has driven me to this point. I have little doubt that if I dragged her out of Morelli's house, out of Morelli's arms, and promised her the sun and stars, if I stepped directly into Morelli's place as if he were simply a book mark, that she would come to me.

I want more. I don't want to be the answer to her fear of being alone.

I know that she loves Morelli. I also know that if he were the man who completely owned her heart, she would have never found room in it for me. I know that she is loyal. I know that if she felt the all encompassing love for him required of life-long lovers to forsake all others, she would never have let my lips touch hers.

I hated the position I put her in, but I could not help myself. I cannot be in a room with her and not touch her, or kiss her, or press my body against her, but it was more than that. I had felt compelled to show her, without words that she could ignore, deny or misinterpret, that he was not the man for her. Show her that her own reactions and her responses to my actions should tell her what her heart already knew; that even if the man for her wasn't me, it certainly wasn't him. Yes, I wanted her for myself, but even more, I wanted her ultimate happiness.

I would not badger her and force my will on her trying to convince her of what she should already know. She was a grown woman who should know her own mind and quite frankly, I didn't want to 'win her love'. Love is a gift, not something to be campaigned for or logistically planned like a game of Risk. She sees it as a battle and she has erected her white flag. Only, she did not give up _to_ me. She didn't even give up _on_ me. Long ago she gave up expecting anything _of me_. She gave up on herself.

I've been back from my mission for two days. I sit at my desk in my office staring at the blinking light indicating there it a call on hold. It's Stephanie.

I pick up the handset as if it were a revolver and I'm playing Russian roulette with

five bullets in the chamber.

**A/N: ** My first attempt at full melancholy angst, so let me know if you would like to see where this goes. I'd also appreciate feedback on how I'm getting emotions across. Constructive criticism is welcome but please be gentle!


	2. I Just Made You Up to Hurt Myself

**Disclaimer:** Ditto the disclaimer posted in the prologue. Same warnings apply.

**A/N:** I'd like to thank all of the Babe's, Tarts (and one Cupcake!) for your support of my first foray into the world of Angst and Angry Ranger. You have my full permission to skip the song lyrics but I've always felt they'd be an excellent Ranger anthem.

**I Just Made You Up to Hurt Myself**

"**Only", by Nine Inch Nails**

I'm becoming less defined as days go by

Fading away

And well you might say

I'm losing my focus

Kinda drifting in the abstract in terms of how I see myself

Sometimes I think I can see right through myself (x2)

Less concerned about fitting in the world

Your world that is

Cause it doesn't really matter anymore

(No it doesn't really matter anymore)

Yes I am alone but then again I always was

As far back as I can tell

I think maybe it's because

Because you were never really real to begin with

**I just made you up to hurt** **myself **x2

And it worked

Yes it did!

There is no you, there is only me

There is no you, there is only me

There is no fucking you, there is only me

There is no fucking you, there is only me

Only x4

Well the tiniest little dot caught my eye and it turned out to be a scab

And I had this funny feeling like I just knew it's something bad

I couldn't leave it alone, I kept picking at the scab

It was a doorway trying to seal itself shut

But I climbed through

Now I am somewhere I am not supposed to be

And I can see things I know I really shouldn't see

And now I know why, now, now, now I know why

Things aren't as pretty on the inside

Chorus

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Lifting the handset to my ear I punched the extension decisively and shut down every section of my brain except for the primitive sections required to carry on a perfunctory conversation.

"Yo."

"You're back."

"Yes."

The silence stretched on the line until all I could hear was her shallow breathing.

"Can I come see you?"

"Is this regarding a skip?"

"No."

"What is it you need, Stephanie?"

"Never mind."

"Of course."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

I let out a sigh. "You called to tell me that you want to see me and when I ask you what it's regarding, you can't tell me. You quit. You're done."

I could picture her squeezing her eyes shut and imagined her putting her head on the table in front of her.

Softly she said, "Can I please come see you? We need to talk."

Those words from her once would have sent my heart soaring. Now they are just words. We've never had a conversation that truly went anywhere. Why would this be any different?

"I'm headed up to my apartment shortly. I'm assuming you still have your key fob?"

"Of course."

Of course. My key fob, my shirts, my sweatshirt, my hat, my heart; just keep them as long as you need. Or toss them. Throw them in the back of your car and blow them up. Whatever.

"When should I expect you?"

"Um…in about twenty minutes?"

I disconnected.

I took the elevator up to the 7th floor and keyed my way into my apartment. I made my way back to the bedroom and disarmed myself. I locked one of my guns and my knife in my safe. The other gun I left on the nightstand as is my habit. I went to the kitchen and thought about a bottle of water but opted for a glass of scotch instead. Likely she was coming to inform me that she was marrying the cop and she needed my fucking blessing.

I sat on the sofa; knees splayed, scotch in my hand and laid my head back, my face parallel to the ceiling and my eyes closed. It gave her plenty of access to my chin, jugular and chest. Make things easier for her for her.

Ten minutes later I heard her let herself in, drop her keys in the tray and softly pad into the room. I couldn't look at her.

"Ranger?"

"Yo."

"Can I…can I sit down?"

"Might as well."

I felt the couch dip and heard the leather creak as she settled back. I felt when she must have dropped her head back in a position mirroring mine.

"When did you get back?"

"Early yesterday morning."

"You didn't tell me you were leaving."

"No, I didn't."

"Ranger."

I opened my eyes, lifted my head and looked at her. And that hollow space where my soul used to be clutched closed like an empty fist. She looked shockingly gaunt and tired. Her hair was crazy and unkempt. Her t shirt was wrinkled and smudged and her jeans were loose. She was wearing scuffed Keds and one shoelace was untied. She was beautiful. I wanted nothing more then to go back three and a half years in time and tell Connie I had no time to be a mentor. I wanted to never have met her.

I sat up, downed my scotch and placed my glass succinctly on the table. I had turned to her with my blank face. I had no other face to offer.

"So talk."

"I'm glad you're okay. That you came back all right."

I held her eyes and waited a full minute before speaking. "Stephanie, you could have said this over the phone. Why are you here?"

She angled her body towards me and tangled her fingers through her hair. That same hair I wanted desperately to grasp with my hands and smell and feel.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"To what end?"

She seemed taken aback. "You're my friend."

Straight for the jugular. I held her eyes for a full minute before I said, "Maybe that's why."

I saw her wince. I wasn't trying to hurt her, but all the same, I don't think I've ever given her any indication that she had ever done anything to hurt me. She either doesn't believe I feel pain or she is under the misconception that she doesn't have the power to hurt me. She is the only person who had the power to hurt me.

I often think our paths were meant to cross as some cosmic joke to the powers that be. Take a man who never believed he had the capacity to love or the right to have it and put him in the path of a woman with a tremendous capacity to love but who is afraid to contemplate what she really wants or needs. Mix in incapability to communicate on both sides and the most powerfully electric sexual attraction even innocent bystanders can sense, and you have us: the couple that never was.

We tread in water for nearly three years. Now we're drowning. _It shouldn't be this hard. _

I stood and walked to the kitchen and refilled my glass with more scotch. Fuck the temple. I returned and stood in front of where she sat hunched down on herself as though she were cold. I forced myself not to put my glass down and pull her into my arms. Instead, I remained standing before her and said in a rasp that belied my nonchalance, "_Why _are you here?"

She tipped her head up to look at me and the tip of her nose was red and her eyes held the sheen of suppressed tears. "How would you define our relationship?"

Fuck.

I so wasn't ready to go there with her. Quite possibly, I would never be ready. I have never volunteered my thoughts and feelings about my weaknesses with anyone. Never give information to the enemy. Never negotiate in a hostage situation. But I could hardly throw stones about Stephanie sticking her head in the sand if I was doing the same.

"So you can put me and Morelli on a spreadsheet and compare pros and cons? So you can put it in your diary and look back on it when you're old and gray and can remember fondly this most delightful time in your life?" I know I was being a dick. I know I sounded menacing. I fucking felt menacing. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to be Dickey Orr and not love her enough to be able to keep it in my pants. I wanted to be eighteen year old Joe Morelli and be able to just fuck her on the floor and leave her with out feeling anything but sexual release. I wanted to be anyone who had never met her so she wouldn't have the power to make me feel…to make me feel.

I couldn't stop. I could feel a rage unlike I've ever felt snaking up my spine, bursting into every blood vessel, clenching every muscle. I could almost feel the adrenalin coursing through my veins. I could literally hear my heart's heavy pulse throbbing in my ears.

I took another sip of scotch and willed my hand not to shake.

I gave her a sinister smile. "I know _I'm_ having a good time. Are _you_ having a good time, _Babe_?" I made sure the endearment sounded nice and derogatory.

She blinked and a single tear rolled down her cheek. I felt my thumb twitch with empathy, wanting to rub the tear away. I ignored it. I turned and swiveled a dining room chair around and sat. I was sitting as far from her as possible while still being in the same room. I swirled the amber liquid in my glass and feigned great interest in the process.

"How would I define our relationship? Let's see. I suppose we were once mentor and protégée. We were later partners, of sorts. Neither of those seems to fit the bill anymore. We are _friends_ as you so like to point out. This feels _friendly_, doesn't it?"

"Stop it, Ranger," she whispered.

I narrowed my eyes at her and ground out, "I'm not going to hurt you, Stephanie. I'm clear across the room and I'm under control." Barely.

"It doesn't feel like it. It feels like you're trying to hurt me."

"Maybe I'm just trying not to hurt _me_." I gave her a moment to think about that. "Where was I? Mentor/protégée, partners, _friends_," I put a nice sarcastic emphasis on _that_ word. It should make me feel so powerful, so domineering to speak so cruelly to her but quite honestly it made me feel weak. Didn't she know that my letting her see how angry and hurt I was gave me absolutely no power? I might as well go into the bedroom to retrieve my gun and hand it to her. Put me out of my misery. "Mmmm. Oh, how could I forget? We were lovers once."

I saw her stiffen. "I mean, it _was_ one of the best fucks of my life. A guy doesn't forget that, does he?"

She bolted up and stood on shaky legs. "I'm leaving."

"Sit down," I growled. She looked poleaxed, but she sat. I knew I was scaring the shit out of her but I couldn't stop. I was sick and tired of keeping my own council.

"You came for a talk and I'm talking. I know you'd like to leave, but for once I'd like to finish what I want to say before you go run and hide behind your cop. He's safe, isn't he? He wouldn't say these things to you, would he?"

She had nothing to say so I went on. "So there was the unforgettable fuck that was so earth moving for you that it didn't bear repeating. Unless I could schedule myself in between one of your and Morelli's eighteen different two week break ups and show up with a ring.

Another fat tear rolled down her face and she swallowed audibly. "Please stop," she choked out.

"No. Don't you want to hear this? You asked for this meeting Stephanie."

"I didn't think-"

"No you didn't. You never want to think when it comes to me. You just assume. So you assume that night was nothing to me but a good fuck. Want to ask me why it was such a good fuck?"

"No," she said on an exhale of breath.

"Too bad." I paused for emphasis. "I fell in love with you that night."

She dropped her eyes, I heard her suck in a breath and her porcelain skin went ghostly white.

"You need to throw up? Is the idea that repugnant to you?" I belted down the rest of the scotch.

"Nothing to say? You still with me?"

"Yes," she said on an exhale.

"Good. So we have mentor/protégée, partners, friends, one time lovers…I guess that's it. Doesn't sound like I have a good case. How's Morelli stacking up?"

"Would you stop?"

"Would you?"

She stood and went to the kitchen and came back with her own scotch. Before she took a sip she looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes and said, "Will one of your guys be able to give me a ride home?"

"Now?"

"When were done."

I nodded my ascent and she took a fortifying gulp of the liquor.

I stood and turned to her, folding my arms across my chest. "What are you looking for, Babe? What do you want me to say?"

She shrugged her shoulders and sulked over to the window to stare at the street seven stories down. "Joe wants us to make a formal commitment."

I felt my gut clench. "Has he proposed?"

"Not yet."

"I felt the rage creeping up my spine once again. "So you want my blessing?"

"Of course not."

"Then what," I bellowed and she jolted. "Are you tendering first rights of refusal? Shall I make a counter offer? Fuck, Stephanie, this is your life, not some fucking real estate transaction."

With her back still to me I saw her place her glass on the sill and hug her arms around herself. I put my own glass down and silently walked up behind her being very carefull to keep a few inches of space between us. I leaned down and placed my mouth near her ear and in a low voice I said, "It's not my job to tell you what to do. The only person who can tell you what you need is you."

She wailed, "I don't know what I want!"

"After nearly four years with the man, don't you think that should tell you something?"

She said nothing so I went on. "Stephanie, this isn't high school. You're like the girl who can never be without a boyfriend. You're afraid to leave Morelli and give up what you see, or the world sees, as your last chance at a happily ever after. It's like you're buying a car and it's pretty fucking close to the right model but not quite the right color, but who knows? It might be the closest to the best car you can find. Better buy it, and you'd better buy it quick. This is your fucking life Stephanie! This is Morelli's life! I personally shouldn't give a rat's ass about Morelli, but he's a fucking human being! You think he's gonna thank you for settling for him? Nobody want's to be settled for."

As I was blasting her with my verbal tirade she had turned around and was slowly sliding down the wall beneath the window. I stepped back. She sat now looking up at me as though I'd backhanded her. And I suppose, metaphorically, I had.

Her face was now completely blotchy and the tears poured down her face unchecked. She reached between her legs to grab up a hank of her shirt and brought it to her face and rubbing away her tears and the mucus running from her nose. Her face still buried in her shirt she said, "Why did you send me back?"

I squatted down in front of her with my elbows on my splayed knees and said crisply to the top of her head, "I told you to repair your relationship with Morelli or I'd be back in your bed. What did you want me to say? That I was in love with you? Move in with me? Would you have believed it? _I hardly believed it_. Did you want me to make a commitment that night? Hell, Stephanie, I couldn't even make a commitment to a dental appointment then. You knew what my life was like. Did you want me to promise you forever when I didn't even know if I would come back alive from my next mission? What the fuck would you have me say?"

She dropped the shirt, wrapped her arms around her knees and had her head down on her arms. I could hear her softly keening. It took a few minutes for her to collect herself. With her voice muffled she said, "Do you want me to break it off with Joe?"

"Fuck!" I was fully yelling at her now. "Have you heard a single thing I've said? I want you to think, Stephanie. I'm not giving you ultimatums."

After she sat there rocking for a few minutes, she lifted her head and thunked it back against the wall. She looked through me with that nine mile stare soldiers get when they've seen their first example of the brutal ravages of war.

As I stood, my knees cracked and I walked over to the phone and punched in the extension for the control room. Cal answered.

"Please find someone to take Miss Plum home. She'll be down in the garage momentarily."

She pushed off the ground with difficulty and staggered over towards the door. I grabbed the key fob out of the tray and picked up her purse, then handed them to her.

I walked her to the elevator and stood behind her studying the sagging lines of her shoulders and the dejected curve of her back.

"I'm leaving for Miami tomorrow," I said.

I saw her head bob once in acknowledgment that she heard me. She stepped in the elevator, walked to the corner and pressed her body in as far as it would go. She was still in the corner when the doors slid closed.


	3. The Kill

Rating: M

Warnings: Through 14

Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money

**A/N: **One more post until I go out of town. Hope this tides you over until next week!

**The Kill**

"The Kill", by 30 Seconds to Mars

What if I wanted to break

Laugh it all off in your face

What would you do?

What if I fell to the floor

Couldn't take this anymore

What would you do, do, do?

Come break me down

Bury me, bury me

I am finished with you

What if I wanted to fight

Beg for the rest of my life

What would you do?

You say that you wanted more

What are you waiting for?

I'm not running from you

Come break me down

Bury me, bury me

I am finished with you

Look in my eyes

You're killing me, killing me

All I wanted was you

I tried to be someone else

But nothing seemed to change

I know now, this is who I really am inside.

Finally found myself

Fighting for a chance

I know now, this is who I really am.

Come break me down

OoOoOoO

I arrived in Miami at 1600 hours the next day. A Black Lexus had been left for me in the parking lot of the private airstrip. I walked around the back and opened the trunk. There was a locked case in back storing my preference in weapons. I chose what I needed, tucking them at my ankle, hip and back without thinking. I closed the lid to the case, locked it, slammed the trunk shut and got in the car.

It was a twenty-five minute drive from the airstrip to the Martines and I took the time to reflect on the last twenty four hours.

A small part of me felt relieved, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off of my chest. No, that's not right. I felt more like a man who had been under the attack of an animal in the wild. I killed it to defend myself and the victory rang hollow. The animal was only doing what wild animals instinctually do, but I killed it all the same. I didn't even have the decency to show mercy with a clean shot. I fucking brutalized the beautiful thing, tortured it and watched it whimper, bleeding on the ground.

Fuck. I wanted nothing more but to call her, to see her, to hold her in my arms and to beg her to forgive me. But I couldn't really apologize for the words. The words themselves were true. I told Stephanie once that I might be sick emotionally, mentally, sexually. The truth is that I've tried very hard over the years not to concentrate on what it is I feel mentally, emotionally, sexually for Stephanie because I knew what was there was all consuming and powerful and I had no experience with how to control it or how to harness it.

I did not sleep last night. I lie awake imagining what Stephanie was doing, what she was thinking. Was she lying in the cop's arms? Was he making love to her, slowly, tenderly, erasing the pain I had inflicted on her? Was _he_ imagining the ways he planned on killing me and formulating plans on how he could get away with it? Had roles been reversed that is exactly what I would be doing and I would show no remorse. I know he hated me. I fucking hated me.

I looked down at the speedometer and noticed I was going over ninety. I down shifted to seventy and hit the cruise control.

I started thinking about the way Stephanie looked when she got to my apartment. She looked as if she hadn't been eating or sleeping. Her eyes were vulnerable and sad. Her clothing and her hair indicated she had lost interest in her appearance. All were tangible signs of prolonged anxiety and/or depression. I am kicking myself for not noticing. No, that's not true. I noticed, but I didn't care. I was so absorbed in my own pain, my own rage that I ruthlessly and meticulously set my course to break her. The fucking mercenary in me could not be split from the man. But she was not the enemy. She was my friend. And as much as I led her to believe I had no interest in that distinction, we both knew it was a lie. If I could have nothing else, I would always be her friend. Until the day she dies, I will always have her back.

Was she sick? God, please don't let her be sick. Did she mourn my absence? Was she afraid for me? Maybe it had to do with Morelli. They had been living together for six months now and there was no indication that there had been any break-ups in that time. I shouldn't be keeping tabs on her but I could not help myself. She was an obsession.

My trip to Miami was not preplanned. I didn't even know I was coming until I told Stephanie. I knew I would never be able to function properly at RangeMan until I got my mental health in check. I had lost my ability to compartmentalize. I was little more then a raw, exposed nerve.

I have never proactively made arrangements to see Julie. I always waited patiently for an invitation. Before Scrog, I was fine with that, or as fine as I was willing to admit. She was flesh of my flesh and my moral responsibility. That same fear I had of letting my emotions get engaged with Stephanie held me back from making any kind of real connection with my daughter.

She was the result of youthful irresponsibility on my part and at that time I begrudgingly acknowledged her, gave her my name and later signed her off to a better man then me. What I very rarely admitted to myself is that one of the most haunting moments in my life was the first moment I held Julie in my arms.

People try to tell you that you have no real concept of the love until you hold your own child in your arms. I always shrugged it off. It was useless information to me. I understood familial love. I felt love for my parents, my siblings, my abuelas and abuelos.

The moment I held Julie in my arms the first time, I was gutted. It amazed me that I could feel such an automatic response of absolute, complete love for a person I had just met, a person who wasn't even fully formed or completely sentient. I knew without a doubt I would lay down my life for her if it meant her survival. I looked into her rheumy eyes and saw myself looking back at me. She clutched my index finger in her tiny little fist with such conviction and absolute trust. She was so defenseless, this little piece of me. I felt an inexplicable urge to give her shelter, to keep her safe, to put her in a bubble so that she would never know the violence or the pain and heartache that happen in the real world.

Just as quickly, I had shut those thoughts down and buried them, not to be resurrected until that bastard Scrog got a hold of her.

Of course, thinking of Scrog had me thinking of Stephanie once again. The situation with Scrog was a physical manifestation of every one of my worst nightmares. And yet, it was that moment when I stepped into Stephanie's apartment and was confronted with the reality of how a psychopathic stranger could see what I was unwilling to admit. Julie and Stephanie: my Alpha and Omega.

I physically ached when Stephanie left my apartment last night. It took every last bit of my restraint not follow her into the elevator and to pull her into my arms and hold her until she melted into me. I wanted to drop to my knees in supplication and beg her to forgive me, to take the words back and to accept whatever crumbs she deigned to offer me. I would give my right arm just to have her look me in the eyes again with some small bit of affection and trust. But it was doubtful she would let me.

I needed to see Julie. I needed to hold her, to be held. She owed me nothing but if I've learned anything in this life, I've learned that life is precarious and there is no room for pride when it comes to making sure those you love hear the words.

I pulled up in the driveway and shut off the ignition. I dropped my head back on the headrest behind me and closed my eyes, attempting to center myself. Had I caused irreparable damage to Julie? Would my callous treatment of her mother and my absence in the formative years in her life destroy any chance for her forming trusting relationships in the future? Did she understand that I gave her up to Ron because I thought it was in her best interest? Did she understand that I did it not from lack of feeling but because of the depth of my feelings?

The knuckles tapping on the window to my left jolted me to awareness and my hand went instinctively to my gun.

Rachel looked in at me and I could see in her eyes both concern and panic. I had assured her last night that the visit was purely informal and Julie was not in any danger. She had no way of knowing if I was telling the truth. If Stephanie thought I gave her little or no indication of my feelings, she would be surprised at how much less I had given Rachel.

I stretched out of the car and stood in the open doorway studying Rachel. She was still a beautiful woman, or perhaps I should say beautiful to me. Yes, by society standards I supposed most men would find her attractive but in my life that was never the ultimate requirement to catch my interest. I won't lie and say that I've never found release with a woman who was nothing more than a beautiful body and an exquisite face. I have. But the true aphrodisiac for me was the chemistry, the mental foreplay, and a total lack of fear of me. Rachel and I had that once for one short night. I never loved her but I knew if I were a different man, it would be easy to love her.

She stepped forward as though she were thinking about hugging me and I inched back slightly.

"Carlos, what's wrong?"

I looked into her brown eyes, started to talk, cleared my throat and started again.

"I just wanted…I just want to see Julie."

Her eyes searched mine a moment then seemed to soften. "Are you okay?"

I held her eyes and carefully forced my face to remain blank. I thought about lying but to what end? Clearly Rachel could read me after all, perhaps not my face but my actions.

"No."

She nodded once and turned to walk back into the house.

I slammed the car door, locked it and turned to see Julie waiting in the open front doorway.

OoOoOoOoO

We ate dinner together, the six of us but I couldn't tell you what we had eaten or much of what we talked about. Julie had asked how long I was staying and I told her at least a week. She asked if she could visit me at my office here and I told her that was up to Rachel and Ron. They seemed to sense this visit was important to her and Ron and Rachel acquiesced with only a minimum of shared silent communication between them. Whether they felt it was a gift for her or a gift for me was irrelevant. It was a gift.

It was a school night so I stupidly volunteered to assist Julie with her homework. I had no idea the advanced concepts and expectations the public school system was currently requiring of children. She was eleven years old, for God's sake and she was struggling over Algebra. I was struggling over helping her with Algebra. Why couldn't it be an assignment in Government or World History? I'd even take Advanced Biology given the choice. At least I wouldn't appear inept to Julie.

While Julie was off showering and getting ready for bed I asked Ron and Rachel if I could talk to her alone.

It was 9:30 when I tapped on her door and I found her sitting in a t shirt and running shorts Indian style on her bed reading a book. She looked up at me and smiled.

I pulled a chair from her desk over to her bed and sat. "I came to tuck you in."

She giggled and said, "Nobody tucks me in anymore, Ranger. I'm almost twelve years old."

I tried to tip my mouth in a semblance of a smile and said, "I know that, sweetheart."

Her smile faltered for a moment. "Are you sad, Ranger?"

Softly I said, "Yes."

"Is everything okay?"

I sat amazed for a moment that any child of mine could feel such empathy, and for me of all people.

"I will be fine."

She fiddled with her book for a moment. "I like that you send me e mails sometimes."

I did smile at that. "I like sending you the e mails. I like knowing what's going on in your life."

Apropos of nothing she said, "Are you sad about Stephanie?"

I looked down at the floor. "Julie, you know she's not my girlfriend."

She let out a snort that let me know she thought I was lying.

"I think Stephanie is a good person for you." She said it with the kind of conviction only an eleven year old can possess.

I had nothing to say to that so I continued to look at the floor, visually following the weave of the braided rag-rug beneath my feet.

After a minute I cleared my throat and said, "Julie…you know that I love you, don't you?"

"But?"

I looked up at her brown eyes, so much like my own and they were big as saucers and wary. "No 'but'. I just wanted to be sure you know that I love you." My voice broke at the end but I didn't care. It felt cathartic.

She leaned forward and then stopped. "Can I…"

I waited to see if she would continue. When she didn't, I said, "Can you what, sweetheart?"

"I want to hug you."

I felt the sharp sting of tears behind my eyes and in my throat and said, "Please."

She wrapped her arms high around my neck and I felt such relief. I blotted my tears in her hair.

OoOoOoOoO

I was driving back to the RangeMan office for the night. I had been invited to her Saturday soccer game and she planned to spend the afternoon at RangeMan to meet some of my men and have a tour. I was humbled.

I had tucked her in after our hug and while I only held her for a minute, it felt like a homecoming. The only people in my life I allow contact like that with were my mother and Stephanie. I was staggered by how my own child could make _me_ feel safe. I was staggered by the fact that I needed it. I turned off her light and closed the door softly behind me. I regretted the fact that I would never be free to look in on her every night and watch her sleep.

It reminded me of all of those nights I snuck in Stephanie's room to watch her sleep. I could stare at her for hours admiring her peace, wondering what her dreams were bringing her, wondering if there would ever be a time in our lives when I would have the right to be there with her and watch her sleep.

I pulled into the underground garage, turned off the car and sat for a moment. I felt the compulsion to call my Babe. I needed to hear her voice, even if she just wanted to yell at me. Yelling would mean she cared enough to fight this out.

Without allowing myself any time for more thought, I unclipped my cell phone and pressed speed dial one. It rang four times and rolled over to her voicemail. I sat for a full minute after the tone just breathing. Then I said softly, "Babe, are you okay?"


	4. My Friend at the End

I have been in Miami a week

Rating: M

Spoilers: Through 14

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and I'm not making any money…sigh

**My Friend at the End**

**Kryptonite, by 3 Doors Down **

I took a walk around the world

To ease my troubled mind

I left my body lying somewhere

In the sands of time

But I watched the world float

To the dark side of the moon

I feel there's nothing I can do, yeah

I watched the world float

To the dark side of the moon

After all I knew it had to be

Something to do with you

I really don't mind what happens now and then

As long as you'll be my friend at the end

If I go crazy then will you still

Call me Superman

If I'm alive and well, will you be

There a-holding my hand

I'll keep you by my side

With my superhuman might

Kryptonite

You called me strong, you called me weak,

But still your secrets I will keep

You took for granted all the times

I never let you down

You stumbled in and bumped your head,

If not for me then you'd be dead

I picked you up and put you back

On solid ground

If I go crazy then will you still

Call me Superman

If I'm alive and well, will you be

There a-holding my hand

I'll keep you by my side

With my superhuman might

Kryptonite

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I have been in Miami a week. Rachel and Ron have been kind enough to let me pick Julie up from school each day. Twice they have allowed me to take her back to RangeMan for a few hours after school and put her to work filing, shredding papers and stuffing envelopes. It was Julie's idea. Ella bought, embroidered and overnight mailed two black RangeMan shirts to her. Julie asked if I would take her down to the firing range today and I told her I had to discuss it with her mother.

It is close to ten p.m. and I am aimlessly shuffling papers at my desk. Stephanie has not called. I know she is physically okay. She is still carrying a tracking pen in her purse and has not shut off the GPS on her car. I have no idea where she is. I asked Tank to be sure she was still monitored and only to alert me if something seemed off. He offered to tell me where she was but I have declined the information. If she wanted me to know, she would have called and told me. I would presume she is still with the cop, but every time I speak with Tank, he asks me if I want to know her location. I suppose it's his way of indicating that she is not where I think she is, but it is none of my business. She has every right to get on with her life without me and after the way I treated her, she owes me nothing.

As I was shutting down my computer for the night, my phone rang. I looked at the display and for a moment my heart stopped. I fumbled and almost dropped the phone trying furiously to stab the send key.

"Babe," I said gruffly.

She said nothing. I tried to hear her breathing, but all I could hear were airy background noises.

"Babe. Please. Are you okay?"

I had no idea if the "please" would work anymore but I was desperate.

"I'm fine," she said with no inflection.

I had a million things to say, but all I allowed myself to say was, "Okay."

"That's it? Okay?"

I closed my eyes and could visualize her brow pinch and her blue eyes spark with fire.

"Babe…I'm sorry."

She was quiet so long the only way I had of knowing that she hadn't hung up was the constant roaring of background noises. The ocean.

Finally she spoke. "I have some things to say to you Carlos, and I really need you to listen."

She so rarely used my name that the pathetic word gave me a sharp surge of pleasure. I felt the blood rush to ears, fill my chest, and God help me, pool in my groin. I could hear the venom in her voice and as much as I was afraid of what she had to say, I was relieved that my Babe sounded so angry and so alive.

I swallowed hard and said, "Go ahead."

"If you _ever_ speak to me the way you spoke to me that night, you'd better be sure to talk fast, say everything you need to say and make it count, because those will be the last words I _ever_ hear from you.

"If you ever speak to me that way again, I will remove my tracking pen and my GPS. I will get a restraining order against you if you or anyone you know tries to contact me. You were verbally abusive and unnecessarily cruel. I expected better from you, Carlos."

It broke my heart how strong her words were and how they contrasted with the way her voice broke intermittently through her tirade. My instinct was to defend myself but I knew I had no right.

"Are you still listening?"

I said on a rasp, "Yes."

"Good. Now, because you're my _friend_, I'm going to have to assume that despite your charming macho display and your snide, disgusting comments, that there were things you meant for me to hear."

I so wanted to lie but I have never lied to her.

"Yes."

"I heard them."

What could I say to that? Christ, I'm a bastard.

"Babe-"

"I'm not done. I heard what you had to say, _as my friend_. You presented some valid points, even if you were an asshole while you were doing it."

She paused and I knew she expected me to remain silent.

"I'm going to give you some information. I am giving you this information _as my friend_, so you will be aware of what is going on in my life and I hope you will have the decency to step back and give me some room to get on my feet."

Every time she said "friend" in that sarcastic tone, I felt bile rise up in my throat. I had no idea the strength of the weapon I had used on her until she picked up my weapon and used it against me.

"I'm in Point Pleasant. My father has rented an apartment for me for a month with an open-ended lease."

"Babe, I'll pay-"

"No you will not. You have a conflict of interest."

She had me there.

At this point, I was leaning on my desk, one hand clutching the phone to my ear like a life-line, the other rubbing absently through my hair.

"I'm sure you noticed I've lost some weight. Mary Lou and Lula and even my dad asked me if…"

"Babe. Just tell me."

"I saw a therapist a few days ago. I'm going to be seeing her for a while. I'm…it's nothing serious but the therapist thought some medication might help me to, uh, get my chemistry back to normal while I work through some things."

Depression. Was I the trigger? I knew one person couldn't take responsibility for causing a mood disorder. You can't _cause_ a mood disorder. But with our history, I was certainly guilty of not concerning myself with her insecurities about our relationship. Combine that with the unhealthy patterns of her relationship with Morelli, the high stress level of her job, her total lack of direction and the backhanded support from her mother, it's a wonder she hadn't broken under the strain sooner.

She went on. "I spoke with Tank this afternoon and if it meets with you approval, I would like to do some contract work for RangeMan remotely. It would require my having a laptop, clearance to some programs I would need to use and a business line would need to be installed in my apartment. I would be doing research and some phone skip tracing."

"That's fine, Babe-"

"I would prefer to report to somebody other than you."

I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. I was hard pressed to decide which emotions were the most painful, so I went through my mental checklist. Being the weakest corner on the Stephanie Plum love triangle sucked ass. Being shut completely out of her life felt worse then death. Being a friend the way she needed right now was so little of her to ask but it burned my gut just the same.

"I'll arrange it," I forced myself to say.

"I have broken up with Morelli. I'm not telling you this is my employer or as my one time lover. I am telling this to you as my friend. He and I will not be getting back together. We're both resolved to this, but…" Her voice broke.

I wanted her to stop talking. I did not want to hear about her mourning the loss of Joe. All these years, I have had to watch her go to him, go home with him at night when she had been kissing me just hours before. For years I have had to force myself not to imagine him making love to her during my waking hours, only to be forced to endure nightmares of that very thing while I slept.

I laid my forehead completely on my desk, one arm clutching my gut, the other holding the phone to my ear. I shut my eyes tight and forced myself to listen to her. I had to tell myself to stop focusing on my own pain and think of hers.

"It hurts, Ranger. It still fucking hurts. I will always love him. He was a huge part of my life and if nothing else, he will always be my friend, even if he doesn't feel that way now. But I understand…I understand that just because I love someone doesn't mean I am meant to spend the rest of my life with him."

I couldn't agree more, but I wasn't sure if she was just talking about Morelli or if I was included in that statement.

"I don't want you to contact me. This isn't about you. This is about me. I need to figure some things out and I don't need you muddying the waters and applying pressure."

I wanted to ask her if she was sitting on the beach in the dark, watching the glowing white waves crest and die before they reached the shore. I could picture her sitting in the sand with the phone to her ear, staring off into the distance, her wild curls dancing in the wind and her toes digging into the cool sand.

I wanted to tell her I was proud of her but I couldn't. I wanted to praise her, as her friend, for taking command of her life. I wanted to damn her, as her lover, for tying my hands, for shutting me out.

I wanted to tell her that I missed her and that I loved her, but she would construe that as applying pressure.

I prayed she was safe.

I sat up slowly sensing she was finished dressing me down. From out of nowhere I heard myself say, "I'm coming back to Trenton the day after tomorrow."

I thought I heard her sigh.

"Have you seen Julie," she asked softly.

"Yeah. I went to one of her soccer games on Saturday. She's amazing. She even came into my office to do some work this week. She wants me to take her to the firing range-"

"Ranger."

"What?"

She did sigh then, very audibly. "I can't do this right now."

"Do what?"

She was quiet. Too quiet. I could tell she was thinking of her next words very carefully.

"Listen to you open up to me."

Fuck. I closed my eyes and slowly dropped my head back against the chair.

"Okay."

"Look, I'm glad things are going well for you and Julie, and I will want to hear it at some point. But I've waited for you to open up to me for so long…"

"Too little, too late?"

Again she was silent. After a few moments she said, "It just muddies the waters, Ranger."

"Understood."

"Okay, well…I guess I should go."

"Take care of yourself, Babe." It came out a husky rasp. I tried to force a wealth of meaning into those words, foremost that I loved her.

She said on a shaky breath, "Don't get shot," and she disconnected.

I tossed the phone on my desk, and rubbed my face furiously. I thought wryly for a moment that if I _did_ get shot at some point in the near future, it would somehow be a nice diversion from the way I'm feeling now. Gun shot wounds hurt like a mother, but I would welcome physical pain gladly in order to take my focus off what I was feeling now.

And what was Stephanie feeling now? Clearly, she was mourning the death of her and Morelli's relationship. In the past, when I had contemplated how I would feel if she ever told me that things were truly over with the cop, I only thought about myself and the relief I would feel and I suppose a sense of bittersweet victory.

But in reality, the victory rang hollow. Morelli and I would never be friends, but as I pointed out to Stephanie, Morelli was a human being, and he was a human being who had just lost Stephanie forever. I don't know if I've lost Stephanie forever, but I can assume how he is feeling right now would have to at least equal, if not surpass my own pain.

OoOoOoOoO

The following Monday I had decided it was time to get back to work. I needed to get my head back into the game. I was sick of all the empty hours I had to fill with nothing but my own morose thoughts.

I was at the TPD turning in an FTA. I had stupidly volunteered to come into the station with the skip while Bobby waited in the Explorer outside. I had just turned from the clerk with body receipt in hand and saw him. Morelli was standing near the side door blocking my exit. He stood with his arms folded, leaning insolently against the door frame. His stance was relaxed but every muscle in his body was visibly rigid. He had on his "cop face" but his eyes were feral.

I went to pass him to leave and offered him an emotionless nod.

"Morelli."

He caught my arm as we were shoulder to shoulder. "I need to talk to you Manoso."

I stopped. "Here?"

He dropped his hand from my arm and said, "My office."

I followed him down the utilitarian corridor and into an equally utilitarian 14x14 room. He went and sat behind an old metal desk and indicated with his hand that I should seat myself in the gray metal folding chair in front of his desk. I tried not to notice the picture of Stephanie in a silver frame angled right next to his computer monitor.

He leaned back in his chair and studied me. His eyes held a total lack of emotion, but I knew it was a lie. I knew I stared right back at him with that same false lack of feeling.

At length, he said, "I don't like you Manoso. And I'm not particularly happy about my new status with Stephanie right now, but I care for her. I will _always_ care for her."

I knew the word _care _was his euphemism for love but I knew he wouldn't use the word in my presence. Hell, _I_ wouldn't use the word in _his_ presence. Our egos wouldn't allow it.

"I'm sure you're just delighted with the current chain of events, but I swear to God, if you are just using her, if you hurt her in any way, I will bring the pain you cause her back on you tenfold."

This would be a much easier conversation if I thought Morelli was an asshole. But he wasn't. He was the same as me, just a man, walking, living, breathing, trying to just get through his day while he was slowly bleeding to death inside.

I made sure he was looking at me, really looking at me so that he could see the truth to my words. "She's not mine to hurt."

I saw his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. Did he feel relief to know she hadn't come running to me?

"If she's not with you, then where is she? I know she's not at her parents' house."

"Point Pleasant. Her dad rented her an apartment."

He seemed to take in the information and nodded his head once.

"And you have this information how?"

"I spoke to her last week."

"But you're not in her life?"

What the fuck did he want from me? Was this a God damned exit interview? Was it his exit interview or mine?

"I am in her life only as much as she will let me. She gave me the information as a courtesy. She asked that I not contact her."

"But you will."

I said nothing to that. Let him think whatever he wants. If he knew what she threatened me with, he would know that I was rendered impotent, utterly at her mercy.

He looked off over my head for a moment then leveled an icy look at me.

"You know why I hate you Manoso? It's not because of your sketchy black ops resume or the fucked up moral code you live by. It's just because you exist. If you didn't exist, I might have had a chance at a life with Stephanie. "

"I could say the same to you."

His neck flushed red with rage and his hands gripped the armrests on his chair until his knuckles grew white.

On a low rasp he said, "You just want to fuck her."

I held his stare for a moment and slowly stood up. In my life, I try very hard not to do things impulsively, not to do anything stupid. Throwing down with Stephanie's ex-lover within the confines of the Trenton Police department certainly qualified as something stupid. I walked to the door and put my hand on the knob. I needed to get out of here before this turned into something else. I knew I should let him have the last word, but at heart, I'm still a selfish bastard.

Without turning I said, "Do you really believe that?"

He let out an aggravated sigh and I turned around to see him staring at his desk…at the picture of Stephanie. "No. But I _want_ to believe that." He finally lifted his eyes up to mine again and he didn't or was unable to shield his emotions. I wish he had. Then he said, "Is she safe?"

I looked down at my feet and said. "As far as I know."

He gave a curt nod and swiveled his chair to look out his small window, effectively dismissing me.

I had just begun turning the knob to leave when I heard him say, "Take care of her, Manoso."

OoOoOoOoO

TBC


	5. No One is to Blame

Rating: M

Spoilers: Through 14

Disclaimer: Still belong to Janet and she has all the money. Uhn!

This chapter contains a teensy bit of **SMUT**. You've been warned.

* * *

**No One is to Blame**

You can look at the menu but you just can't eat

You can feel the cushions but you can't have a seat

You can dip your foot in the pool but you can't have a swim

You can feel the punishment but you can't commit the sin

And you want her and she wants you

We want everyone

And you want her and she wants you

No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

You can build a mansion but you just can't live in it

You're the fastest runner but you're not allowed to win

Some break the rules

And live to count the cost

The insecurity is the thing that won't get lost

And you want her, and she wants you

We want everyone

And you want her, and she wants you

No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

You can see the summit but you can't reach it

It's the last piece of the puzzle but you just can't make it fit

Doctor says you're cured, but you still feel the pain

Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain

And you want her and she wants you

We want everyone

And you want her and she wants you

No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

No One is to Blame, by Howard Jones

* * *

Two more months have passed and I still have not heard from Stephanie. The GPS on her car indicates she is still living in Point Pleasant, although Tank tells me that she makes occasional visits to Trenton. I suppose she could be visiting her parents, or Mary Lou, or maybe her therapist. It's possible she could be visiting Morelli but it was not my concern. Tank is a virtual font of information where Stephanie is concerned and while I tell myself I don't want to hear it, I listen all the same.

Tank and I had never had a discussion regarding my relationship with Stephanie. Not before our fight and not since. But Tank has known me a very long time and despite the fact that we have never emotionally poured our hearts out to each other, (I think we've hugged exactly once) he knew me. He was doing exactly what he knew I needed right now whether it was the right thing to do or not, and whether I wanted it or not. He knew I was as attached to Stephanie as a parent is to a newborn child, checking on the baby a dozen times during the night just to make sure it was still breathing.

I was lying on my sofa with a muted basketball game playing on my television and ruminating about my friendship with Tank when the man himself called me from the control room.

"Yo."

"Boss man, Bombshell's here. She's on her way up."

I hung up on him and went to go pull on a shirt. I decided not to waste time pulling my hair back so I left it loose against my shoulders and forced myself not to sprint for the door. I had to remind myself to calm down. I leaned both hands on the doorframe, head down and took several deep breaths. Just moments before I heard the elevator doors slide open on the other side of the door, _I felt her_. A low simmering current the arced up my spine and settled in the back of my neck. I waited for her soft knock and slowly opened the door.

She looked up at me questioningly with her bright blue eyes and said, "I hope you don't mind…"

I stepped back to let her in. "Babe. You know you're always welcome here."

Her face scrunched into a little frown for a moment and then she dropped her purse on the floor in the foyer and made her way over to the couch and sat down.

I went to the kitchen to get out two bottles of water and found myself staring vacantly into the recesses of my refrigerator. Once again, I had to take a moment to center myself and figure out a way to put one foot in front of the other. I had no idea why she was here but I knew that this was important to her.

I came back into the living room and handed her a bottle of water. Reflexively, I stroked the back of her hand briefly with one finger as she took the water from me. I felt her startle slightly and I swore softly to myself. "Sorry."

Her cheeks turned pink but she didn't look up at me as she said, "It's okay."

I sat across from her in a club chair and studied her. She was wearing a soft flowered peasant style skirt and a coordinating pink t shirt. She had on wedge healed sandals that accented the beautiful curves of her calves and the slenderness of her ankles. I noticed a smattering of freckles across her shins and knees, at her neckline and across the bridge of her nose. She had been getting some sun at the beach.

She was wearing light makeup and her hair was gorgeously wild yet somehow tamed. I could see she had put a little weight back on and the smudges beneath her eyes were now only faint shadows.

"You're looking well, babe."

She nervously fiddled with her skirt for a moment and then dropped her hands on her lap.

"I guess you're wondering why I'm here."

"I'm just glad that you are."

She cleared her throat a few times and said, "My therapist recommended that I talk to you. That I …that we try to have the discussion that we…"

I leaned forward, elbows on knees and said, "I understand. Why don't you start?"

She sat there for a while, no doubt having an internal dialog with herself. Finally, she looked up at me with brave eyes and said, "Ranger, how would you define our relationship?"

I held her eyes and said, "I've had a lot of time to think about this and I've only done this once. I fucked it up royally so please bear with me, Babe."

"Okay."

I took a deep breath and began. "I guess I am your boss, but I don't see it that way. When I am lucky enough to work with you, I am your partner. I hope you still consider me your friend, because you are mine. And even though we only shared that one night together, I still consider you my lover."

"But you never said-"

"No I didn't."

Stephanie said, "Every time I brought up the topic of relationships, you always shut me down." Then she lowered her voice to mimic mine. "I love you…in my own way, my love doesn't call for a ring, but a condom might come in handy. Babe, I'm wearing two guns and a knife, at this point in my life, I'm not exactly family material."

I had to remind myself to not raise my voice in defense. Instead I hissed out, "I do love you, Stephanie. I thought you were very aware of that. I'm sorry I didn't say it right, but you belonged to another man at the time and I had to amend it somehow. The words just spilled out of my mouth and they surprised me as much as you. My love comes with a condom? Stephanie, when I said that…how long ago did I say that? When I said that, I meant that. I loved you but I had nothing to offer beyond sharing your bed and some companionship, and the only promise I could have offered you was to try not to get shot on my next mission.

"I'm still wearing two guns and a knife. I still can't promise you I'll come back alive from my next mission. Is that a man you want to hang the hopes of your future on?"

I was silently and selfishly willing her to say _yes_.

"You never gave me anything!"

"I gave you the only things I could! I gave you cars when you needed them, support when you had difficulties, a job when you needed money, my men when you needed protection and I gave you affection when you would let me."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"No. I don't. That's our problem. Both of us seem guilty of either assuming too much or too little. Tell me what you meant."

"You never gave me any indication that you wanted me, really wanted me, for more then another night in my bed."

I stood up and started pacing. Why don't they write a fucking book on how to do this? Hell, they probably have. I remember my sisters talking about some Venus/Mars crap. Clearly male and female minds were not wired the same, at least when it comes to this emotional shit.

I stopped my pacing a moment and stared straight at her. "All those things I gave you, do you think a guy does that kind of shit for over three years when he's just trying to get laid? When we were in the middle of that Scrog mess, and it looked like Morelli was going to be sharing your apartment with us, I told you that if you let him make love to you while I was there sleeping in your apartment , that I would kill him. Didn't that give you any indication how I felt?"

She stood up and came toe to toe with me. "Maybe, but I'm guessing most guys wouldn't make love to a woman he supposedly had feelings for and then bounce out of the bed the next morning like it was on fire. Oh yeah, and now I remember, you told me to repair my relationship with Morelli!"

"Fuck!" I spun around and threw my empty water bottle against the wall. I put my hands on my hips and took two very deep breaths. I turned to her and said, "I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this situation. I'm mad at myself for saying the wrong things at the wrong times. I feel like I'm being punished for things I did and said years ago, when I was too stupid to know what I really wanted and how to get it. And now it's too late to make up for it."

"We have to talk about this _now_."

I sighed and leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. "Do you think you have any responsibility in this?"

She hiked up one brow and I had to suppress a smirk. Some time in the last several months she'd figured out how to do that. What other changes have I missed?

"Are you being a smartass," she asked.

"No, I'm honestly curious as to whether you think I should shoulder all of the blame for our inability to be honest with each other."

She propped her butt against the back of the couch and folded her arms across her chest effectively mirroring me. "Of course I don't think that."

"So tell me what parts you think you _are_ responsible for."

She chewed on her lower lip and studied her shoes. "I sent you mixed signals by letting you get close and then pushing you away."

I nodded. "Anything else?"

"I may have purposely misinterpreted things you've said to me in the past because I was scared of what it would mean, and I'd have to deal with it."

_You think_? "Did you ever wonder if the reason I was so reluctant to tell you how I felt was because of your homing pigeon routine with Morelli?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Don't be an asshole."

"Shit, Stephanie, I don't do this. I don't talk about my feelings. With anyone. I've tried _very hard_ over the last few years not to _have_ feelings. Right now I'm pissed off and frustrated and hurt and I don't know how else to say what I need to say."

She looked back up at me and quietly said, "You're hurt?"

My gaze did not waver as I said in a low voice, "Yes."

She stepped forward hesitantly and stopped when there was about six inches of space between us. She slowly lifted her right hand and placed it on the center of my chest.

I stopped breathing. I looked down at her hand, so delicate and pale against my black shirt and I found my own hand coming up of its own volition to clasp her hand firmly over my heart.

It's been over eight months since I've been touched by her.

"You need to know I never meant to hurt you," she said on a whisper.

I pulled her hand gently from my chest and raised it up to my mouth. I pressed a tender kiss to her palm and then held her hand against my cheek.

Her body swayed into mine. I took my hand from the top of hers and threaded it through the curls at her nape, curls I never thought I'd get to touch again. Curls I never thought I'd have a hope of becoming tangled in. I looked at her and saw that her eyes were not focused on _my eyes_, but instead on my mouth.

I could not help myself. I reached up with my other hand and tunneled it through her hair, pulling her completely into me and I covered her mouth with mine.

I wanted to kiss her gently, tenderly, but months, hell; years of denial were overruling my body. I thrust my tongue in her mouth aggressively, possessively, and I heard her moan at the same time she ground her pelvis into me.

I spun her around violently so that she was pinned against the wall and bent my knees enough to rock my cock against the heat of her groin. I pulled back from her mouth for a moment then returned to suck and nip at her lower lip. I kissed and tongued her jaw and neck until I made it to that tender skin behind her ear where I nipped at the skin with my teeth. I felt her hands clutching the front of my shirt then opening to palm and kneed my chest. I felt the sharp bite of her nails almost piercing me through my shirt.

I pulled a hand out of her hair and skimmed it over her breast, tracing my index finger across her nipple and felt her shiver. I watched my own hand as I cupped and shaped her breast in my palm, then lowered my mouth to suckle the hardened tip through her thin shirt. I wrenched her shirt up and tugged the cup of her bra down to take her nipple in my mouth. I relished the texture and taste as much as I relished the soft moans I was eliciting from her. I rolled my eyes up to hers as I sucked at her, watching her watch me.

I heard her gasp as I thrust against her again trying fruitlessly to bury my cock between her thighs, desperate to slide into her. I snaked my hand over the angle of her hip bone then glided over the full curve of her ass, clutching her, trying to bring her further into me. I used that hand to inch up the back of her skirt and lowered my other hand to slide it into the back of her panties. I lightly traced the seam of her ass following the line down until my fingers glossed across the liquid silk of her wet heat.

I heard her breath catch and then she tipped her pelvis forward then back trying to force my fingers to slide into her. I was nibbling on her neck when she thrust her pelvis hard enough to impale herself on two of my fingers. I shuddered as I felt her silky walls clench and spasm around my fingers. I found my teeth clasped upon the tendon between her neck and shoulder like an animal subduing his mate. The urge to be inside her felt all encompassing as if it were a biological imperative.

A cell phone rang from a distance and she froze. It rang four times and presumably went to voice mail. While it was ringing I had felt her stiffen, felt her pull away slightly. I rested my forehead against the wall over her shoulder. The only sounds breaking the silence were her shallow breathing and my heavier gusts of breath.

I reluctantly removed my hand, adjusted her skirt, then her bra and shirt and placed a soft kiss beside her ear. "You're not ready to do this are you?"

"I…no. Not yet. I'm sorry."

I pulled my upper body back a bit and cupped her face in my hands forcing her to look in my eyes. "Babe, I'm here whenever you're ready."

She looked down at where our hips met.

"Babe, don't get me wrong. I would give anything to be inside you right now. But I want more. I'm willing to wait."

Her eyes shone brightly with a light gloss of tears. "I don't know when that will be." She looked regretful and maybe a little unsure.

Did she really think that if I couldn't have her right this minute, I'd move on to someone else?

I tucked a curl behind her ear and said, "Take all the time you need, Babe. I'm not going anywhere."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

One week later I was sitting in my office going through my mail. I had half my mind focused on the task at hand and the other half was wondering about Stephanie. I hadn't seen or heard from her since the night in my apartment. I tried to remind myself that she more than likely still had some issues to work through and that she would call me when she was ready. I told her to take her time and I meant it. If she were going to come to me, I wanted her to come without any guilt about Morelli or a sense of impossible expectations pushed on her by her motheror the 'Burg in general. I wanted her to come here free of the burdens of her past and open to what I had to offer her. As I told her, I'm not going anywhere.

I flicked through some smaller envelopes to get to the larger pieces. My heart seized when I saw the familiar return address on a large manila envelope. I knew my time was up.

TBC...

* * *

**A/N** Only one more chapter to go! Think it can't be done?


	6. Make Time Stop

Rating: M

Spoilers: Through 14

Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money.

* * *

**Make Time Stop **

And I was lost for words in your arms

Attempting to make sense of my aching heart

If I could just be everything and everyone to you

This life would just be so easy

Not enough time

For all that I want for you

Not enough time for every kiss, and every touch

And all the nights

I wanna be inside you

We will make time stop for the two of us

Make time stop and listen for our sighs

Not enough time

For all that I want for you

Not enough time for every kiss, and every touch

And all the nights

I wanna be inside you

Make time stop

Make time stop

In our fight against the end

Making love we are immortal

We are the last two left on earth

And I was lost for words in your arms

Attempting to make sense of my aching heart

If I could just be everything and everyone to you

Not enough time

For all that I want for you

Not enough time for every kiss

Not enough time for all my love

Not enough time for every touch

Make time stop

I wanna

Make time stop

Not enough time

For all that I want for you

Not enough time

Not enough time for every kiss, every touch

And all the nights I want to be inside you

Not Enough Time, INXS

* * *

I stood in the parking lot of Stephanie's apartment complex in Point Pleasant. I had never been so unsure of a woman, or of myself, in my life. Six days have passed since I received my mission offer and agenda, and my response is expected by 0900 today. I had waited to see if Stephanie would contact me prior to the deadline but she hasn't. My time is running out.

I climbed the stairs with the enthusiasm of a prisoner approaching the gallows. She had been very specific about giving her space and not applying pressure. I justified in my mind that this situation was vastly different and overrode her request for privacy and solitude.

This situation was somewhat similar to what had happened almost nine months ago, or more to the point, what hadn't happened. I had accepted my last mission and did not let Stephanie know that I would be gone or for how long. While I know that one specific thing was not what pushed her over the edge emotionally, I'm sure it was a strong component. I was supposed to be one of her closest friends, a person she had come to rely on, a person she had learned to trust the most. In her eyes, I had abandoned her. In a way, I suppose I had.

Once I was standing in front of her door, I reached into a pocket of my cargo pants and pulled out my picks and set to work as soundlessly as possible. Her car was in the parking lot and all of her lights appeared to be out. It was just after 2400 and it looked, at least from the outside, as if she were asleep.

The locks gave me minimal difficulty and the chain even less so. I let myself in and closed the door, relocked it, and stood for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Within a minute, I was able to make out the forms of her sofa on the far wall, an entertainment center opposite it and a coffee table in between.

I heard a slight rustling coming from what I presumed was the kitchen and then a rhythmic squeaking. Rex was on the job.

I toed off my boots in the foyer and stalked back to the only interior door in the apartment. It swung open with the small sound of the bottom of the door snagging on high pile carpet.

The cheap metal blinds in her bedroom did little to block out the security lights from the parking lot. Stephanie was lying spread-eagle on her belly with one arm thrust under her pillow and her other arm extended straight out to the side. Her hair obscured over two-thirds of her pillow where it fanned out behind her head. I found myself wondering if this would be the last time I would see her this way.

Just as I finished that thought, I noticed her stirring. She flipped her head in the other direction, facing away from me, and went to tuck her extended arm under her pillow. I thought she was still asleep, but a few moments later she lifted her head a few inches and held it slightly elevated as though she thought she had heard something. I knew she hadn't: I wasn't even breathing.

In a scratchy voice, she said, "Ranger?"

I moved into the room and went to the chair she had sitting between the window and the bed. "It's me, Babe." I unbuckled my gun belt and laid it on the floor beside the chair then lowered myself into the seat.

She had rolled to her side then pushed up into a sitting position, scooting back against her headboard and clutching a pillow to her chest. Even in the ambient light leaking through the blinds, I could see her frown in confusion.

"Babe, I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I have to talk to you."

She stared at me as though I were an apparition.

She slowly shook her head from left to right and said, "No…it's not…I was going to come see you in the morning."

"Why?"

"I…why are you here?"

"Babe…" I shifted forward in my seat then shifted back again. Shit, this was hard. This felt like a fucking meeting, or worse, a prelude to our infamous 'deal' and nothing could be further from the truth. I needed to have a conversation with my lover; one of the most important conversations of my life.

"Babe, can you come sit here with me or let me lie there with you? I promise not to…I need to hold you when we have this conversation."

I saw a moment of panic in her eyes and then it was gone. Her eyes went back and forth between the old rocker I was sitting in and her bed. She seemed to be making calculations in her head then finally climbed from the bed.

I sat up and dropped my arms to the sides to make room and she climbed up sideways into my lap. I felt such a surge of possessiveness when I noticed she was sleeping in one of my shirts.

Once I had wrapped one arm across her shoulder and curled the other across her hip, she laid her head where my shoulder and neck joined and I heard her inhale deeply. I was unable to stop myself from pulling her into me tightly and burying my nose in the top of her hair, taking in her scent.

We sat there in silence for what had to be twenty minutes. I was loath to break the moment, but we had to talk.

"Babe," I whispered.

"Hmmm?"

"Babe, I've been offered a mission."

She tensed slightly and pulled her head back fractionally to look at me.

"What do you mean 'offered'?"

I took a moment to frame my answer. "Stephanie, every time I go 'in the wind' it isn't always because I am ordered to. Sometimes, yes, I have no choice. Other times, I am given options."

I gave her a moment to digest that.

"I signed a five year contract with the government a month before I met you. When I negotiated my contact, I made certain stipulations and addendums that would allow me some…options."

She squinted at me. "I don't understand."

I heaved out a sigh. "Babe, I really can't explain it to you more specifically than that."

She cocked a brow and said, "Or you'd have to kill me?"

I felt myself chuckle for the first time in what had to be a year. "No Babe, I wouldn't have to kill you, but I'd likely be court marshaled."

She leaned back even further in my lap and I felt her absently fingering the tie that held my hair back. I know she had no idea she was doing it but I prayed she wouldn't stop. It felt like the last horrific months had never happened, they had melted away and left the two of us right back where we had started, or better yet, where we wanted to be.

"I thought you were a civilian."

"No," I said softly.

"You're active duty?"

"No."

"You're in the reserves?"

"Babe, guys like me fall into kind of a gray area-"

I heard her mutter something about "stupid gray areas" and it "not surprising her".

I pushed my arm further forward around her shoulder and twisted my wrist to check the time on my dive watch.

"Babe, I've got exactly eight hours and twenty minutes so I've got to cut to the chase. Let me get through the hard part first and then when I'm done, if you have any questions, if I can answer them, I will."

She looked searchingly into my eyes then sighed and laid her head back where it had been before.

"I've been offered a mission, but it is voluntary. They need an answer by 0900 tomorrow-actually today."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Babe."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"Like I said, it's voluntary. It could last anywhere from six weeks to four months. I know some of the details about the mission and it appears to fall into the 'low to moderate' risk category. You need to keep in mind that the term 'low risk' is somewhat of a misnomer. It is not the same thing as safe."

I felt her nod her understanding against my chest.

"If I take this mission, it would fulfill my contractual obligation and any remaining months on my five years would be null and void. I'd be out. For good."

I felt some tension leave her body and I regretted that I had to keep on talking.

"So you're going to take the contract?"

"Babe, I have to give you the full picture before we…before I decide what I'm going to do."

"There's more?"

"Yes." I know I sounded morose but I couldn't muster up any enthusiasm to follow this discussion to its natural conclusion. "Babe, I could decline the contract. I would still be "on call" for another eleven months. There is a chance that I could receive assignment orders and I would have no choice. That assignment could even come in the last month of my contract and there's no guarantee of its duration. Some mandatory missions can last from six months to two years. It doesn't matter to the government if the mission surpasses the length of my contract, just as long as the orders are given within the time frame of the contract.

"I have only been _ordered_ to duty twice in the last four years. Should I decline the current offer, I'd say it's about a fifty-fifty chance that I might receive orders in the next eleven months and I would have no choice. The risk level could be anywhere from 'low/moderate' up to 'high risk'. The only thing I _can_ assure you is I won't be asked to do is a suicide mission. Some high risk missions _seem_ like suicide missions but technically, they are not. At the same time, they might just decide to order me on a mission similar to the one I'm currently being offered. Or they might not call me to duty at all. There's no way to predict what will happen."

At some point during my monolog I could feel her start to shiver. By the time I finished my last sentence, she was virtually vibrating with nervous energy or adrenalin. I pulled her further into my chest and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. I took my hand from her hip and traced the length of her arm until I caught her hand in my palm. She let it lay there passively while I traced nonsensical designs on the back of her hand with my thumb.

She took a shaky breath and said, "I…what are you telling me?"

"Babe, I'm _asking_ you to help me with this decision."

She pulled her head back up and tried to tug her hand back but I wrapped my fingers closed around her hand and held tight. I refused to let her pull back from me, pull back from this. Her eyes, even in shadow looked at me accusingly.

"Ranger, this is your decision, not mine."

"Babe…all of my life I have had only myself or the government to answer to. I preferred it that way. Somehow, you came along and….shit. You're important to me, Steph. You have to know you're the most important person in my life. Over the last several months I've come to realize that my actions, whether I mean them to or not, have an effect on you. And _all_ of your actions have a very profound effect on me. I don't care what we call what we have between us but I want…no, I need to give this choice to you."

She was quiet a long time and I stroked her hand and rocked the chair while she tried to get her trembling and her thoughts under control. Finally, she said, "If I weren't in your life at all or if we were really just friends, would you have re-upped when this contract was over?"

I had thought about that very question a million times. I tried to phrase my answer very carefully. "Four years ago, I had actually requested a ten year contract but apparently there is no such animal. Six months ago, I was considering renewing it." I felt her cringe. I didn't say it to hurt her, but it was the truth. "Right now…I wish I'd never signed the damned thing at all."

So softly, I almost didn't hear her, she said, "I wish that too."

I brought the hand up that had been stroking hers and cupped her cheek, pulling her face up to look at me. "Babe. What do you want me to do?"

Her eyes instantly pooled with tears and one fat drop rolled down her cheek. She looked at me owlishly and said, "You want _me_ to choose?"

I rubbed her tear away with my thumb only to watch it be replaced by another. "Babe, you are the other half of me. I no longer live my life only for myself. It's your choice."

Hoarsely, I added, "I'll do anything you ask of me."

She started mumbling to herself and I knew she was unaware she was speaking aloud. "I can't…you can't…God, I love him too much! I can't do this…how can he ask me to do this? How can you ask this of me…it's too much!"

I wrapped both arms around her so tightly, I'm not sure she was able to breath. I'd never heard her say she loved me. I suppose I had sensed on a visceral level that she felt love for me but to hear it… Christ, it felt so good, so gratifying. I physically felt as if some missing piece of me clicked into place. Then I felt suddenly guilty for enjoying the sensation when she was so obviously in pain with what I'd asked of her.

I was overwhelmed by the depth of her feelings for me.

I tucked her head far enough into my neck so I could place my lips against her ear. "Shhh, Babe, shhh, it's okay… it's okay. Please… don't cry."

Her tears were falling silently but I could feel her body shuddering to repress her emotion. Why is it, even when I try to do the right thing, I inevitably hurt her?

"Dios, Babe, _please_ stop." God, I sounded almost pathetic. I was begging, but if she kept on, I wasn't sure that I wasn't going to start crying with her.

She sniffed back her tears and said in a garbled voice, "But what if this is the mission you were meant to go on and you come back safe? Or what if I chose for you to take your chances for the next eleven months and you get deployed and you get killed? I couldn't live with myself, Ranger! This is like fucking Sophie's Choice! Don't make me do this!" Her voice had started off meek and uncertain but by the end; it was nothing short of desperate and afraid.

I lifted my hand to stroke her hair over and over and said, "Babe, shhh. My fate is not your responsibility. All we can do is go over the risks and the benefits and try to make the most intelligent decision based on-"

"God damn it, I love you Carlos! Stop talking so analytically! This is your life we're talking about! Our life-"

I kissed her. I didn't give a damn about what else she had to say, I had to kiss her. I had to seal those words between us, never to let them fall away. I wanted those words to live forever on her lips and in her mouth, so they would breathe into me every time she spoke, so they would penetrate me every time we kissed. I kissed her in benediction. If I died now, I would regret nothing.

I felt like I had just exhaled a breath I had been holding for years.

I finally pulled away from our kiss and used both hands to skim her hair away from her face, clutching her head as if I held the Holy Grail. I laid my lips against her forehead and whispered brokenly, "I love you."

My lips still pressed lightly to her forehead, I said, "_This_ is our choice. I refuse to willingly leave you. If I get called away, it will be because I was ordered to, it won't be by choice. We may have to live with close to a year of uncertainty, but I can't see it that way. I have never been more certain about the way I feel about this, about you. I can't walk away from you Stephanie."

She raised her hands and clutched my face and offered me a beatific, melancholy smile, her eyes shimmering and bright. "Then don't"

* * *

**Epilogue**

Six months have passed since the night she changed my life, the night she made me whole. It wasn't until she completely accepted me into her life that I realized how hollow I had been. She filled me, body, mind and soul.

Stephanie still works for RangeMan. She has just recently started chasing skips again but is committed to only doing so with her partner, Lester. Stephanie often jokes that I may one day regret that pairing, but I know Stephanie trusts him implicitly and has a bond with him. And even though my cousin can be an incorrigible lech, I trust her. And despite his antics, I trust him. Most importantly, I know the Santos will have her back. But then again, any of my men would.

Santos and Brown have been spending time with her in the gym, training her in self defense. It's true that I encourage her to learn it to keep her safe, but an amazing side effect has been the way it's bolstered her self esteem and confidence.

Her family has slowly come to accept me as a permanent fixture in her life. I'm sure her mother still holds out hope for another big 'Burg wedding, but Stephanie and I are both happy with the way things are right now.

We've discussed the possibility of a child. We've peeked into that doorway and we're both intrigued. I have a feeling when my contract is over, that door will swing fully open.

Her friendship with Morelli has begun again in fits and starts. We've joined him and his colleagues and their spouses and girlfriends several times for pizza and beer at Pino's. I can tell he still feels awkward around her, but from what I can see, he's been nothing but kind to her and I believe he has let go. Word on the street is he has been seeing an attractive paramedic he met a month ago at the scene of a multiple car pile up. She's a single mom. I wish him nothing but the best.

Before the night we came together, I didn't care one way or the other if I would get called in. For those first few idyllic weeks after that night, I prayed that if I were to be called in, it would be weeks or months before it would happen.

After six months passed, I saw that Stephanie was still with me and I stopped bargaining with God. I chose instead to thank him. I thank him for bringing this exquisite, wonderful, benevolent woman to my life. I know absolutely that God created this woman just for me and I humbly accept this gift without questions or stipulations.

Though she has slept in my arms now for 194 nights, I hold her to me each night as if it were our first night together and try not to think that it could be our last. She lives with me now. She lives with me in this building, in this apartment, in this heart.

I know that I have to live for today. I know with absolute certainty that I would take just one day, just this day _with her_, in exchange for the 10,950 days I have lived without her.

The End!


End file.
